Karen O'Connor, a young journalist known for her celebrity profiles, is consumed with discovering the truth behind a long-buried incident that affected the lives and careers of showbiz team Vince Collins and Lanny Morris.
Francis, whose daughter was murdered a few years ago, is always watching Christina dance in the night club Exotica. One night he is dared to touch the girl and ends up being thrown out. He then sends in Thomas to try and find explanations.
A reflection about what makes everyone's life unique, through the story of Noah's family. Noah is an adjuster, having sex with his customers. His wife Hera watches pornographic movies for ... See full summary »
A lonely middle-aged catering manager spends all of his time studying tapes of an eccentric TV chef. Meanwhile, a young woman is making her way from Ireland to find her boyfriend, who moved... See full summary »
Awaking from a coma to discover his wife has been killed in a car accident, Ben's world may as well have come to an end. A few weeks later, Ben's out of hospital and, attempting to start a ... See full summary »
Karen O'Connor tells the story about two distinct but related periods in her life. In 1972, she is an up-and-coming Los Angeles based journalist who has been given the lucrative assignment of convincing once successful comic Vince Collins, who is at the tail end of his career, to allow her to ghost write his memoirs. Most specifically, she has the task from her publishers of discovering the reason behind two issues in Vince's life from 1957: why he and his former on-stage partner Lanny Morris, who is still active and well known within the entertainment business, broke up their professional partnership shortly after they hosted a successful thirty-nine hour telethon for polio research in Miami, there not having been any indication of problems between the two before that; and how did the dead body of Maureen O'Flaherty end up in the water filled bathtub in Vince and Lanny's New Jersey hotel suite, the opening of that New Jersey hotel owned by mobster Sally Sanmarco which was Lanny and ... Written by
As Lanney signs the bill in the hotel room when Maureen brings him his food, there is a ZIP code visible in the hotel's address. This part of the film is set in 1957, but ZIP codes were not used by the US postal service until 1963. See more »
Just a Gigolo
from the Austrian song "Schöner Gigolo" (1928)
Performed by The Blue Grotto Band
Music by Leonello Casucci
Lyrics by Julius Brammer
Adapted by Irving Caesar for English
(c) Wiener Boheme-Verlag GmbH/Irving Caesar Music Corp.
By kind permission of BMG Music Publishing Ltd./EMI Music Publishing Ltd./Warner/Chappell Music Ltd. and Campbell Connelly & Co. Ltd.
In a medley with "I Ain't Got Nobody" See more »
I recently had the pleasure of sitting in on the first public screening of Atom Egoyan's "Where The Truth Lies" in Switzerland. I have never been moved to write a preview-review, but in this case it becomes necessary. To say that the movie is impressive would be an unfortunate meiosis. Everything we have come to expect from Egoyan in the past two decades is present in fine form: impeccable mise-en-scene, exquisitely precise camera movement, and a score that not only adds texture but is an artistic accomplishment in and of itself.
But wait, there's more. It turns out that Egoyan's first foray into a larger, more "industry" piece brings out the best in his sensibilities, and shows that he is a genuine and lasting artist, that is, capable of evolving while remaining true to the vision that made him an international phenomenon (for the acclaimed Exotica and The Sweet Hereafter).
Simply put, the cast is outstanding. The performances Egoyan brings forth are nuanced...one of a kind. In particular, Alison Lohman as Karen O'Conner nails the difficulties of multi-valence like a seasoned vet. She is at once timid, cunning, she surrenders as well as she controls, both Alice and Svengali. I get a very strong Jennifer Jason Leigh 2.0 vibe from her. Jane Greer all the way. She has mad potential, and it is exciting to see early on.
Kevin Bacon's extraordinary gifts of performance reach their zenith in the impossibly charismatic Lanny Morris. His is a tour-de-force performance that rivals Pacino in Dog Day Afternoon, Mitchum in Out of The Past, and Brando in Last Tango. That's my word! He will certainly be nominated for an Academy Award, and unless another actor comes forward with a role of a lifetime, it would be no surprise if he cops the statue, especially considering his recent work in Mystic River, for which he was overlooked.
Colin Firth is a star in his own right, shining brilliantly as Lanny's road dog Vince Collins, perhaps the film's most intriguing, complex character study. Firth gives all of himself and more, and is as courageous as it comes. David Hayman also is creepily adept inna Erich von Stroheim style.
Los Angeles is captured magnificently, as is the world of old school song and dance star power. Think Martin and Lewis even more buck wild than they really were and you'll get a sense of the flavor.
Structurally the narrative is Trump Tight, revealing yet never telling, fulfilling its film noir genre and then making a logical progression upon it. Yes people, it's all here...Lies, Laughs, Loves, Songs, Tears, Selfishness, Generosity, Deceit, Reconciliation, and HOT HOT SEX. Check it! Depending of course upon how it is promoted, this film has the opportunity to do great things for North American Cinema. It can bridge the gap between big box office productions and so-called art house films, entertaining while simultaneously exploring more profound issues. Popular audiences are not stupid, they just need to learn how to see and think and feel again. This is the ambassadorial movie we have been waiting for. I believe that Where The Truth Lies can produce a kind of leap of faith in moviegoers and producers alike, so that there can perhaps be another Golden Era of Hollywood while the millennium is still young.
Where The Truth Lies get 5 Mics from The Source and a Robert Townsend soul clap! Congrats, Maestro Egoyan. I'll have the lobster.
Jonathan Peter Jackson Budapest, Hungary June 2öö5
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